Friday, January 14, 2011

Vanilla Ice Cream with Chocolate Revels

My oldest uncle passed away a month ago today.

On the way to the cemetery, while reminiscing about him and my ba noi (Vietnamese paternal grandmother), my second-youngest aunt remarked that if she had a different mother, the family would not be where we are today. While I've always thought this, somehow hearing my aunt voice it out loud, and in Vietnamese, seemed to make the statement all the more profound.

When my Chinese grandfather left, my grandma was pregnant with her sixth child and my oldest uncle was only 10 years old. A less determined woman probably would not have been able to hold the family together, much less lift us all out of poverty.

During his eulogy, my dad spoke about hy sinh, the Vietnamese word for sacrifice. My dad's family didn't move into town until he was 18 years old. Before then, it was a hardscrabble existence in the countryside as the older siblings helped my grandma while the younger siblings took care of the babies. My grandma used to tell me stories of how when she couldn't afford rice, she fed my aunts and uncles Rau Den (Vietnamese Amaranth), which was essentially a weed that grew quickly and plentifully. She'd slice bananas, dry them, and then sell them at the market and do all sorts of other things to make ends meet. My youngest aunt used to tell me stories about playing with corn husk dolls. Someone else in the village, who wanted a little girl, offered to take youngest aunt off my grandma's hands. Little more than toddlers themselves, my youngest uncle and second-youngest uncle would barricade the door to keep the man out. The family was staying together no matter what.

My grandfather's oldest brother offered to take oldest uncle into town to educate him along with his children. And so my oldest uncle started school, jumping into third grade, but he quickly excelled, learning to read and write Chinese along with other subjects. He hated being away from the family though and always felt the weight of responsibility as the oldest son. And so it was, that after he finished fifth grade, he came back home to help my grandma. That was when my dad was able to begin his education, three years behind his classmates. My oldest uncle never went back to school again, sacrificing his education so my father could receive his. And with his help, and as the other aunts and uncles grew old enough to pitch in too, my grandma was able to educate the rest of the family and eventually moved them into town.

If my grandma wasn't who she was, if my oldest uncle wasn't who he was, I can't imagine the family being who, or where, we are today.

Though he never formally went to school beyond fifth grade, after the family moved to town, my second-youngest aunt's husband gave oldest uncle a two-week crash course in high school math and he was able to get into the local college. And again, when my family started our life over in America, he learned English and three years later, graduated from community college with my dad.

He wasn't the head of the family simply because he was the oldest, but because he was respected and beloved by everyone. We consulted him when it was time to get married, to buy a house, to look up our Chinese genealogy. He was interested in learning everything and delighted in everyone's accomplishments.

Several years ago, he stumbled upon my blog and remarked that he enjoyed reading the posts where I talked about my grandma and family. He often emailed me links to Vietnamese recipes or other news. After that, he was always in the back of my mind when I wrote particular posts about our family, wondering if he would enjoy them. I really haven't wanted to write this post at all. As if writing it down makes the fact that he's gone even more true.

I've long struggled with how personal I wanted to get on the blog. Yet, to not acknowledge such a profound impact doesn't seem right either. What I've eventually realized is that as more family and friends read my blog, and as other bloggers and readers become friends, it serves to record my life. Perhaps a bit delayed, but nonetheless, a record of the minutiae and the major moments.

And those who only care about the recipes and nothing else, well, I don't pay them no nevermind anyway.

After nearly five years of blogging, and for even longer as a reader, the blogs that I still continue to read are records of other people's minutiae too. After all, if I wanted a collection of recipes, I could just go to any old cookbook for that.

My college job was editing student evaluations of classes. In between the many, many trite comments about how this class was "better than 'Cats'" or "two thumbs up," I remember an analogy with vanilla ice cream with chocolate revels. Memory escapes me whether the comparison was to the class, or to life in general, but the image stayed with me.

Not to turn this analogy into as hackneyed a phrase as the others, or god forbid the "chocolate box" one, but life as vanilla ice cream with chocolate revels always seemed entirely apropos to me. Vanilla ice cream is somewhat innocuous. Sometimes I crave such blandness. And sometimes, those small bursts of chocolate revels make digging through all that vanilla worthwhile.

Every morning, for years and years, my dad would start his day by calling my oldest uncle when he got into the shop. They'd chat about whatever they talk about and then he would begin his day. Sometimes now he forgets, the instinct to call his oldest brother a visceral reminder that his routine is interrupted forever.

And so it is, after a month's hiatus, I feel like I need to get back into my routine.

I'm sorry for your loss and your family's loss. The passing of a beloved family member, and the head of the family no less, can be devastating. But your family is obviously close and strong and I hope you can weather this change by coming together as you always do.

Wow. I feel like I know your oldest uncle now, and I think he is wonderful. Your family is rich in love and tradition, and I thank you for sharing some of it here. The recipes are fantastic, but the icing on the cake (the 'chocolate revels', if you will) is the occasional glimpse into your history. Warm and fascinating.

I also meant to offer condolences, please forgive me for having to post a 2nd time. I hope your family continues to bond throughout this time, and your dad adjusts to the loss of his brother without too much pain.

My family's history is similar to yours in many ways. My grandmother and oldest aunt passed away eight and six years ago. We think of them most of all during family gatherings and holidays. I am sorry of your loss. BTW, I have been a fan of your website for 2 months and miss your posting.

One of the aspects of your blog that I have always enjoyed, that initially attracted me and drew me back again and again, is the clarity of your writing, the obvious care you take in putting together each post. This is a wonderful reflection on your uncle and his importance in your life. No doubt he was very proud of your blog.

So sorry to hear about your loss. Thank you for sharing your story about your family. It reminded me of my ba ngoai who recently passed away. Although it's still painful to remember that she's gone, it's also really comforting to hear your story and remind myself that my family was able to come this far because of her.

Sometimes the sacrifices the older generation made seem unfathomable--the details more family fable than real--given the relative comfort we enjoy today. Writing about those sacrifices, those special people helps make them tangible to us and the generations that come after. That sort of family loyalty and go-for-it-iveness certainly inspires me.

As a writer it can be so difficult to write about such personal matters, especially when the loss is raw and new. As a reader, I am very sorry for this loss to your family, but very thankful that you continue to write.

My sincere sympathy to you, WC. Thanks so much for sharing your family story. Your oldest uncle had really lived a life of thinking of other people more than himself. What a life that was. I believe that his legacy will continue to live on in your family as you tell one another of how he lived. Thank you for writing more than just recipes.

i'm so sorry to hear about your loss. losing family, especially those that you were so close with is always hard. but memories, they're golden. it's what keeps you grounded and so, whatsabetterterm, "you".

Thank you so much for sharing your story, it really made my day. The day you posted this blog was also the day the day of my father's would-be 55th birthday. I thought I could manage to be strong but after reading your post, all the memories of my dad came back to me and I had to hold in my tears because I was at work. He passed away a year ago and it has been one difficult year for all of us. All I can say is that each day gets better, but there will always be times (and sometimes theres lots of them) where you will find yourself crying and in a lot of hurt just when you thought you were getting better. I hope that you stay strong and do whatever you need to do to grieve. What I've learned in the last year has changed my perspective of life, family, and love. My condolences to you and your family and may you have strength and love to guide you through.

This was a lovely post. I know your uncle would have liked it as well. I've never really posted anything on your blog but enjoyed reading them quietly. Not only for the recipes but the stories you share as well. But this post really touched me and reminded me of the hardship my parents had to go through to bring us here. Glad to others who appreciate what their families did for them them as well. Keep posting and keep smiling. :)

I have read your blog for long time. I am sorry for your families loss. I do know how it is to lose a dear one since I lost my mom a year ago. The pain still there but it's getting better as time passed by. Do talk about it more will help you and the families get through the toughest time easier. Take care!

My deepest sympathies to you and your family. I'm a new reader here, having found your blog when looking for advice on starting my own food blog. What I thought would be a brief visit just to get a few helpful tips turned into many hours reading & browsing... I have truly enjoyed your writing and photography.

It may feel strange to write about something so deeply personal in a food blog, but it somehow makes complete sense to me. Food IS personal. I think it features so prominently in so many of our pivotal memories. And in this case, sharing something this personal with us makes you seem more like a distant friend than just someone posting recipes.

I'm glad you're back. I hope your spirits are lifted soon, and I look forward to reading more from you.

Dragonkiri,Thank you. You should've seen the pile of Kleenex I went through writing it.

Elle,Whatever brings you here!

TS,Thank you.

Ila,Thank you. (((hugs))) to you too!

Tigger mum,Thank you. You've been reading for a looong time! I love having my family around. I missed them so when I was in college and living alone.

Julie,Thank you. I'm so sorry for your loss. Your father was so young! I try not to think, because it hurts. But then not thinking hurts too.

Bill,Thank you.

Kitty,Thank you. Oh, if only it was something fun like a vacation. :(

Momgateway,Thank you.

Oddlyme,Thank you.

Mod Socialites,Thank you. I think my uncle would have appreciated it.

FC88,Thank you. I'm so sorry for your loss as well.

Burgher,Thank you. I guess that's the natural evolution of laying some things out there online. Or rather, since food has always been connected to family for me, it's hard to not write about one without the other. And welcome!

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